That's for Remembrance
by JennyJoy4
Summary: When Jonas gets to Elsewhere, he tries to put his past behind him. What happens when he is forced to go back to save one he loves?
1. Elsewhere

Okay, everybody, this is my very first fanfic. So please review; I'd be grateful for pointers! Disclaimer: The Giver belongs to Lois Lowry  
  
The sled slowed to a stop beside the house. Standing up from the sled was the hardest thing Jonas ever did, the muscles of his legs burning with the effort. With Gabriel still tight in his arms, he stumbled up to the door of the house and pounded on it once before his legs gave way abruptly.  
The sound of singing stopped from inside, and the door swung open. Jonas squinted up in the sudden light pouring around the girl in the doorway. He turned Gabriel so that she could see him, and he heard her gasp. "Help him, please," he said, his voice trembling. "Please... help..."  
The rest was a blur as Jonas faded in and out of consciousness. Someone took Gabriel from his arms with an exclamation; another person picked up Jonas himself and carried him up some stairs. He was divested of his cold, wet clothing and then—wonderful!—put in a warm bath. They gave him some warm water to drink, and fed him some bread dipped in a liquid whose taste he didn't recognize. Finally, he was dried off, dressed in warm, soft clothes and laid in a soft bed, where his exhaustion finally took over.  
  
Jonas' sleep was deep and dreamless. He opened his eyes to a white ceiling above him; gray light was shining on him. It took a minute for him to remember where he was and why. He turned his head to look around him better—it was a struggle just to do that! A few feet from the bed was an armchair. a girl about his own age sat curled up there reading, her bare feet on the seat. Her dark brown hair was long and hung loose around her face. His movement made her look up, and she put the book down with a smile. He saw with a jolt that her eyes were a brilliant green.  
"Good, you're awake," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?"  
He took a moment to decide on the best word. "Tired," he finally answered. His voice came out strangely scratchy and weak.  
"I bet!" the girl answered, and Jonas wondered what the word meant. "I'll go get you something to eat."  
"Wait," Jonas said, struggling up on his elbows. "Gabe! Where's Gabe?"  
"Gabe?"  
"Gabriel, my brother."  
"Oh, is that his name? He's fine—relax. In fact, he's doing better than you are." She stood. "I'll be right back. As she was going out the door, she turned. "What's your name?" she asked curiously.  
"Jonas."  
"Pleased to meet you, Jonas. My name's Charity." With a smile, she disappeared.  
She was back soon, padding silently on her bare feet, with a tray laden with a hot stew and glass of water. As soon as she set the tray on his lap, Jonas began slurping up the soup eagerly, dripping a good deal of it on the bed from his shaking spoon.  
"Not so fast!" Charity exclaimed. "You'll make yourself sick." She curled back up in the armchair and was soon engrossed in her book again.  
The stew tasted delicious to Jonas—but then, he thought, almost any food would taste good now. When he finished, he looked up and saw Charity watching him over the top of her book.  
"Where did you come from?" she asked.  
Jonas stared at the soup bowl, feeling suddenly empty again. "The communities," he said quietly, and heard Charity's sharp intake of breath. "I ran away." He essayed a glance at Charity, long enough to see an indescribably expression on her face—a mixture of admiration, pity and fear. There was a long pause.  
"You need your rest," she finally said, and picked up the tray. "Sleep tight."  
Sleep tight? Jonas thought, bewildered, but he didn't feel like staying awake to wonder about it. 


	2. Reversals

A bright light flashed in Jonas' eyes.  
"He's been unconscious for almost a day," a voice said in a hushed tone.  
"So we still don't know what he was doing?" said another voice.  
"No, but we can guess."  
Jonas' eyes opened to the sterile white of a hospital room. The two doctors standing beside his bed looked down at him with their dark eyes. They wore on their white coats the insignia of the community.  
"No—" Jonas gasped.  
"Ah," one of the doctors said. "Awake at last."  
"What am I doing here?" Jonas asked, panic rising in his throat.  
"You were found unconscious just on the other side of the bridge, your bike beside you," the second doctors said. Her nametag read, "Alice".  
"We would like to know what you were doing there at night with a bike and the newchild," the other one, "Jeremy", said.  
"It can't be," Jonas said slowly. "It can't be... I got away... I was all the way to Elsewhere..."  
An intercom buzzed. Alice crossed to it and pressed the button. "Yes?"  
"Bring the Receiver of Memory to the Justice Department," the voice on the intercom said.  
"Yes, Sir," Alice replied. She and Jeremy lifted Jonas to his feet. One hand firmly on each elbow, he was escorted down the hall. As they turned a corner, Jonas saw a sign on the wall with an arrow pointing down the left-hand corridor, bearing the legend "Release".  
"You'll be seeing this hall again soon, I'd imagine," Jeremy said. Jonas' blood ran cold—and then, he heard a high-pitched wail.  
"Gabe!" Jonas wrenched his arms from their grasp and ran down the hall toward the Releasing Room. He could hear Gabriel crying. "No! Gabe!" The two doctors were running after him. He skidded to a stop by the door and flung it open. Gabriel lay on the table, a doctor bent over him with a needle. The doctor turned—it was his father.  
"Father! Don't!"  
"Wave bye-bye, Gabe," his father said, smiling at Jonas. Then he stuck the needle in Gabriel's forehead—  
A hand grabbed Jonas' shoulder and shook him. "Jonas! Wake up!"  
Jonas said up in the darkness and grabbed at them.  
"Ouch!" Charity said as his fingers closed hard on her forearm. "Jonas, you're hurting me!"  
Jonas let go. "I apologize for hurting you," he said automatically. His chest was heaving, and he was covered in a cold sweat. He buried his face in his hands.  
Charity flicked on the lamp, and he felt her sit down on the edge of the bed beside him. "Are you alright?"  
"They were going to kill him. Gabe. That's why I ran away." He drew a shuddering breath. "He couldn't sleep at night, and they were going to kill him. It was my father's job. I watched him murder a newborn—a twin. Just because he was the smaller of the two. I couldn't let them take Gabriel—"  
His words were lost in sobs. After such a confession of the horrors of his people, Jonas expected to feel Charity shrink away, expected to hear a gasp of disgust. Instead, with shock he felt her arms go around him, drawing his head down onto her shoulder, holding him close and safe just as he held Gabriel in the cold. He clung to her and wept all the fear of his flight, all the loneliness, all the grief. After awhile, Charity pulled back. "Come with me," she said.  
She helped him to his feet, slipping her arm around his waist to steady him. They went out into the hall and Charity opened the door at the end. Stepping inside, she turned on a lamp. And there, on a mattress on the floor, swaddled in blankets, lay Gabe, fast asleep.  
"He's safe, Jonas. You both are."  
They stood there, watching Gabriel sleep the deep sleep of a child, until Jonas began to sag against Charity.  
"Back to bed," she said softly, with a little chuckle.  
Back in Jonas' room, she sat down in the armchair and picked up her book.  
"You're not going back to bed?" Jonas asked her, pulling the blankets up to his chin.  
"I will, then," she said, curling up on the seat. "But I'll stay until you're asleep."  
"Thank you," Jonas said. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed were that her feet on the seat of the armchair were bare. Jonas smiled in the dark. 


	3. A Kodak Moment

When Jonas woke again, the late morning sun was shining in the window. Jonas got up and looked at the room. He discovered some clothes laid out for him on the dresser and a door that led to a small bathroom. After the luxury of a hot bath, and changing into the clothes (Blue trousers! An orange tunic!) Jonas ventured into the hall. He could hear voices coming from downstairs, and he followed them.  
"Oh, Jonas!" Charity said. "You're up! And just in time for lunch." She dashed past him up the stairs.  
A woman came forward. "Pleased to meet you, Jonas. I'm Charity's mother, Barbara. Scott and Matt should be in in a moment. They're shoveling the walk."  
Just then the door opened and two men came in, laughing and stomping the snow off of their boots. Both of them shook Jonas' hand. Scott, Charity's father, smiled at him warmly. Matt, Charity's older brother, looked to be about eighteen. Both had Charity's brilliant green eyes, but Matt's hair was black, like Barbara's.  
"I'm glad I came home over Christmas break," he said. "I wouldn't have wanted to miss the excitement!"  
"Jonas!" There was a pounding on the stairs, and Gabriel ran straight into him. Charity followed him down, grinning.  
Jonas scooped Gabriel up, unable to speak. When he looked at Barbara, she was smiling with tears in her eyes.  
"Time to eat," she finally said, and they sat down around the table. When they were all settled, they reached out and held hands. The people on either side of Gabe even held his hands. Jonas wondered what was going on as he took the hands of Matt and Charity on either side of him. When they bowed their heads and closed their eyes, he did the same.  
"Dear Lord," Scott said quietly, "thank you for the food we are about to receive. Please bless it to the strengthening of our bodies. Amen." Then they began to eat.  
The food was something called sandwiches. Jonas imitated Matt in making his. Something called mayonnaise went on the bread, then the bright yellow mustard. Then the slices of cheese, and finally ham. He took a tentative bite... and then a much larger one...  
He had three sandwiches in all. He had never appreciated food so much as he did this moment, knowing the gnawing pains of starvation and feeling the satisfaction of a full stomach.  
After lunch, Charity cleared the table and then sat with him in the living room. He sat on the couch and she sat on the floor beside him.  
"I always thing it's more comfortable than actually sitting on the couch," she said with her ever-ready laugh.  
"But couches were made to be sat on," Jonas said.  
"Yes, it's ironic, isn't it?"  
Jonas wasn't sure what "ironic" meant, and he resolved to get his hands on a dictionary—they must have something of the kind here.  
"Why do you go barefoot?" he suddenly asked.  
Charity wiggled her toes. "Partly for practical reasons. My bedroom is always an absolute mess; there's stuff all over the flood. It's easier to avoiding stepping on things with shoes off, and I prefer picking my way across the room to cleaning it." She grinned up at him. "Also, I don't like the feeling of my socks falling down. Plus, I'm used to it. I like the freedom of bare feet. I'd go barefoot at school, if they'd let me. Mom's always trying to get me to wear socks and shoes in the house during the winter, but I think she's just about given up, now."  
Jonas tried to imagine standing barefoot in his house in the community, and failed. The only time he was ever barefoot was at bedtime and swimming. He also had trouble conceiving a room so messy that one had to pick one's way across it. He was a neat and organized person, but he was surprised to find that the idea of such laziness didn't really bother him. Here it existed because it was allowed. Jonas had only imagined Elsewhere to be a place where people saw color and heard music, where there were choices—from what color tunic to wear in the morning to what job to take, and what spouse. He had imagined a world with animals and war and love and pain and hills, but he hadn't been prepared for a world where people went barefoot around the house simply because it pleased them. He hadn't been prepared for a place where people let their rooms get messy for no reason, where a complete stranger, seeing someone in distress would put her arms around him and comfort him, where a family held hands in a circle before they ate.  
Jonas was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the strange animal until it put one foot on his leg. He jumped and stared at the soft thing beside him.  
"Miau," it said, and shoved its head against his leg.  
"She wants you to pet her," Charity said.  
"What is she?" Jonas asked, completely at a loss.  
"She's a cat. Her name's Smidgeon. Don't you know what cats are?"  
"Smidgeon?" Jonas laughed. "Cats? No. I know birds and horses—that's it."  
"It's nice to hear you laugh," Charity said, ignoring his second statement, which Jonas knew had almost certainly puzzled her. She reached up and ran her hand over the cat's head. It—She, Jonas thought—began to make a humming noise.  
"She's purring," Charity explained. "It means she's happy."  
Tentatively, Jonas ran his hand over Smidgeon's head. She purred louder and stretched her head up to his hand. When he petted her again, she turn around once, snuggled up to his leg, and sighed happily.  
"Well. You've made a new friend," Charity said. Gabriel toddled over to Jonas and climbed in his lap. Barbara, who had followed him into the room, laughed. "It's a Kodak moment!" It was perfect—almost. Jonas kicked off his shoes, and smiled. 


	4. A New Name

After dinner that evening, Scott and Barbara took Jonas into the kitchen alone.  
"Charity told us what you said about the communities," Scott began. "Will they come after you?"  
"They did," Jonas said, "but they've given up. They won't follow me here."  
"Well, then the only thing to do is get you some papers," Scott said. "I hate to stoop to forgery, but if people find out where you're from, you'd never have any peace. The government would question you, the press would hound you...  
"So we'll get you some papers and make you a citizen. I have cousins that are missionaries outside the country. I've already been in contact with them, and they've agreed to say that you and Gabriel are their sons, born overseas, whose papers were lost in a fire. They live in a very undeveloped country, so the government won't have trouble believing that. We'll say you came to live with us to be educated in America. My cousin and I have no other family than each other, so there's no one to question it. I don't know how we'll deal with their friends, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. So if anyone asks you, that's the story.  
"As Gabriel grows up, I'm afraid we won't be able to tell him the truth—we'll have to tell him the story we tell everyone else, so he doesn't accidentally let the truth slip. We can tell him when he's ready. How does that sound?"  
Jonas nodded, almost overcome. "I don't know how to thank you for taking us in," he said.  
"Nonsense," said Barbara. "We couldn't just leave you to die on the doorstep, now could we?"  
  
When Jonas went downstairs the next morning, Charity was alone in the kitchen.  
"Good morning, Cuz. What would you like for breakfast? Bagel? Eggs? Toast?"  
Jonas caught a word he knew. "Toast, please. And why did you call me 'Cuz'?"  
"It's short for 'cousin'," she said.  
He looked at her blankly. "Your father said that word last night. I didn't recognize it."  
Charity looked at him strangely, then put slices of bread in the toaster. "I can see you've got a lot of catching up to do before you're ready for school," she said wryly.  
As they ate breakfast, she explained family relationships to him—cousins, aunts, uncles, stepchildren, half-siblings and in-laws. Then she had to explain last names and middle names.  
"So your full name is now Jonas Miller."  
"No middle name."  
"No. Do you want one? You could choose your own!" Her eyes shone. "That'd be so cool! Do you want to?"  
Jonas smiled at her enthusiasm, and her use of the word 'cool'. "That would be interesting." In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him. I can start my new life in a world of choice with a choice that few get to make—I can make almost a new identity for myself. "I'd like that," he told her.  
Charity went off to her bedroom and came back after a little while with dust in her hair and a book titled "Baby Names". Jonas reached up and brushed off some of the dust. Suddenly realizing what he had done, he stepped back quickly. He had forgotten how rude it was to touch anyone outside of one's own family. But Charity hadn't seemed to notice; she just laughed a little self-deprecatingly.  
"It was under the bed," she said. "I really need to clean my room. I should probably warn you," she continued, sitting down and opening the book, "I just love names. If I get too crazy about this, just let me know."  
The casual use of the word 'love' caught him off-guard. "Why do you like names so much?"  
"They're just so interesting. The languages they come from, their meanings..."  
Of course, this led to a digression when Jonas asked what she meant by languages, wasn't there just one? That led to a discussion of culture and geography. Jonas had never seen a map beyond the boundaries of the community, and was fascinated by the globe, and then charts of the solar system. It was after lunch by the time they managed to get back to names.  
"I never knew names had meanings," Jonas aid, sitting on the floor with his back on the sofa, his bare feet out before him.  
"Oh, yeah," Charity said, lying on her stomach. "For instance, it says here that your name is from the Hebrew name 'Yonah', meaning 'dove'. The dove is a bird that symbolizes hope and faith. Also, Jonah is the name of a man in the Bible who was swallowed by a whale for three days."  
"Really? What does 'Gabriel' mean?"  
Charity thumbed through the book. "It's from Hebrew too; it means 'strong man of God'. Gabriel is one of the four archangels in the Jewish tradition. He was the angel who brought news of Jesus' birth to Mary and John's to Zechariah, and he's supposed to blow his trumpet at the end of the world."  
"What's a trumpet?"  
"A kind of musical instrument."  
"Music!"  
"Yeah...?"  
"We didn't have music in the community," Jonas said, excited. "I thought I heard soem coming from the house the night we came?"  
"Yes, we were singing Christmas carols when you knocked on the door. Do you want to learn about music?"" Jonas paused. "Let's finish this first," he said. "What does 'Fiona' mean?"  
"Fiona?" Charity flipped forward in the book. "'White'."  
"What about 'Asher'"  
"'Happy'."  
"Yes." Jonas smiled. "That one's right. But Fiona should mean 'red'." Charity was looking at him with a puzzled expression. He shook his head. "Never mind."  
For Gabriel, he chose the middle name 'David', meaning 'loved'. Jonas debated for a long time on his own name, and finally settled on 'Zachary'—"the Lord remembers". Even his new life would be determined by his old.  
They spent the rest of the day talking about music and listening to it. by bedtime, Jonas could play "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the piano.  
Charity shook her head. "That's incredible. I can't believe how fast you pick all this up! I mean, this morning you had only heard music once, and now you can pick out a tune on an instrument. You picked up on everything I said about geography and astronomy..." She shook her head again. "Unbelievable. You might actually pull this off!"  
"Pull what off of what?"  
That made Charity laugh. "But we've still got a long way to go with the language. I meant, you'll actually be able to convince everybody that you've lived in the real world your whole life."  
The real world. The name fits, Jonas thought.  
  
Jonas lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Asher means happy," he said quietly. "Is he, anymore? And Fiona—"He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to see her face. He felt like his heart had dropped into his stomach.  
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," he said.  
Charity stuck her head in the door. "We're going to have some ice cream; do you want any?"  
"No, thank you," Jonas answered.  
Charity looked at him a moment as if she were deciding something. Then, instead of leaving, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. She sat down next to him on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chin, meditating on the opposite wall.  
"How do you do it?" she said after a minute. He turned his head and looked at her. "How do you learn so fast? And how is it that you know proper English, but you've never heard of Shakespeare? Or you understand science and biology so well, but you've never heard of planets or cats?" She turned to look at him, and her green eyes were puzzled and almost frightened. "I don't understand."  
Jonas sighed. "The Communities defied reality—the reality you live in. They were a world where no one knew what death was, yet they died and killed each other. They had no sadness or real happiness, although they thought they did. They had government but no history and little future. There were no hills, no animals save fish, no sunlight, no rain, no snow, no clouds. Until last December, I didn't know that color, music or love even existed. And I didn't miss them, because I'd never experienced them.  
He had Charity's complete attention now. Her green eyes searched his face. He laughed. "Your eyes are green. I didn't know people could have green eyes. Mine are gray, and that made me different—everyone else had black eyes."  
"Gabriel's eyes are blue," Charity pointed out.  
"Yes, and so were the Giver's eyes."  
The story could not be stopped then. Jonas told her all about how he became the Receiver of Memory, how he learned about Elsewhere, and how and why he ran away. The telling of it took quite awhile.  
  
"So... everyone you know, and one of the only two people you ever loved, are back there in the middle of chaos," Charity said when he had finished. "Wow."  
They were silent a minute. From downstairs, the strains of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" were heard.  
"Come on," Charity finally said, getting up with a smile. "Gabriel will be downstairs. And cookies and milk..." she said in a funny, tempting voice.  
Jonas smiled. "And music. Let's go."  
  
It was decided the next day that they would hold off on buying Jonas some new clothes.  
"We have to put some flesh back on your bones first," Barbara said. "You look like a skeleton."  
"Besides," Scott added, "we really should wait until we have your papers before we take you out in public."  
So Charity and Jonas began to cover American history.  
"The civil war was very bloody," Charity said. "In fact, one of the bloodiest battles was fought not far from here, Gettysburg." Charity handed him the encyclopedia and pointed to the page. "There's a painting of it."  
Jonas looked at the picture. Young men in gray and blue lay sprawled across a smoke-enshrouded field; a horse reared in pain. Faintly, Jonas could feel the dregs of the Giver's memory of war—horses screamed, the grass was in the hair of the boy in gray, there was blood and pain and an agony that was not entirely physical. Jonas hands began to shake; the book slipped through his fingers, and he buried his face in his hands.  
"Jonas?!" Charity put her hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"  
Jonas shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. The memory had left as quickly as it had come.  
"It's nothing," he said quietly. Charity looked unconvinced.  
"You sure, Zach?" she said.  
The name made Jonas smiled. "Yes, I'm fine." 


	5. You May Lie

The next day was New Year's Eve. Before that evening, Jonas and Charity covered art and some religion. Jonas found himself completely enjoying the art; he enjoyed it even more than the music. The way people used colors to make you see what they were seeing intrigued him.  
"Well, your first test is coming, Jonas," Scott said at dinner.  
"Test?"  
"How well you can fit into society," Scott explained. "We're all going to a New Year's party this evening. It's just family, so it's a good first step for you."  
"I thought your cousins were your only family?"  
"It's my family," Barbara said.  
"Oh." Jonas stared down at his plate.  
  
"You're not gonna have any trouble," Matt said. Jonas looked up quickly; he hadn't spoken with Matt ver much, even though he was wearing Matt's old clothes. "You think on your feet."  
  
"What did Matt mean by 'thinking on my feet'?" Jonas asked Charity as they were walking out to the car.  
"He meant you can come up with answers quickly. If anyone asks you something difficult about where you're from or anything."  
Jonas thought for a moment. "You mean lie," he said in a flat voice.  
  
"Yes." Charity glanced at him in the porch light. "We have no choice, Jonas." She sounded exasperated.  
"I know."  
  
So Jonas lied. His listened to Barbara lie to her parents and her brothers and sisters about where Jonas came from and who he was. He listened to Scott lie about picking him up at the airport. He listened to Charity lie about Jonas' luggage being lost. The luggage wasn't lost. Jonas was.  
Not that there weren't bright spots in the evening. For one, Jonas finally figured out what middle names were for when Charity's aunt was scolding her daughter.  
"Angela Marie Thomas, get over her right now." Jonas smiled. He could hear his next-door neighbor telling her son, "Sixteen, come back and put away your bicycle!" He also found that he liked shrimp; Barbara made him try some.  
"It's for good luck in the coming year," she said.  
But the best part of all was the countdown to midnight. On TV, a big, lit sphere was dropping in some city square, as the family around him chanted, "Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one! Happy New Year!" And they yelled and laughed and made as much noise as possible, going outside and beating pots and pans with wooden spoons, and someone set off a firecracker. Then, Jonas saw Scott nudge Charity, and she began to sing out in the cold, dry air of the New Year:  
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot  
And never brought to mind?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot  
And auld lang syne?"  
She sang the whole way through the song, all five verses of it, her sweet and steady voice lending the odd words meaning and feeling, and the rest of the family joined in on the chorus, even Jonas—  
"We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet  
For auld lang syne."  
  
"What did that song mean?" Jonas asked Charity in the car on the way home.  
"It's about looking at the past and remembering old friends and the good old days," she answered, craning her neck to see the stars out the window. "A man and his friend meet and talk about the 'old long since'. Bittersweet."  
Bitter-sweet. It's a good word, Jonas thought, watching the snow glowing in the moonlight. Happy and sad, truer than either alone. 


	6. Slow and Stupid

Charity's school started again on the second, and since Scott worked and Barbara had to go take Gabriel clothes shopping, Jonas was stuck at home with Matt all day. He turned on the TV and watched a few minutes, flipping through channels. What he saw either bored or confused him. Finally, after feeling physically sick from watching a bit of TV violence, he found a news station to watch. When he heard about a country he hadn't heard of before, and turned off the TV and went to look it up in the encyclopedia. That article led to another interesting topic, and by the time Charity walked in the front door, Jonas was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with the entire set of encyclopedias spread out around him.  
"My gosh, you really do have a thirst for knowledge, don't you?"  
Jonas looked up sheepishly. "Once I got started, I couldn't stop."  
  
Scott brought home Jonas and Gabriel's papers that evening.  
"We need to fill in your birthdays," he said.  
"I didn't even think about that," Jonas said. "I don't know when they were. We didn't celebrate birthdays in the community. "But I was nineteen, so mine would be about..." he paused for a moment, "May nineteenth. And Gabriel was thirty-seven, so his would be... September twenty-seventh."  
They were all staring at him. "How did you figure that out?" Scott finally asked.  
"Well, there are fifty births a year. Three hundred sixty-five divided by fifty is seven point three days between births. Times nineteen for me is one hundred thirty-nine days, and thirty-seven for Gabe is two hundred seventy. Subtracting the number of days in each month, the one hundred thirty-ninth day of the year is May nineteenth, and the two hundred seventieth day is September twenty-seventh." Jonas had never seen so many open mouths in one place at one time. "What?"  
"You figured that out in your head?" Barbara asked, incredulous.  
"Yes...?"  
Matt whistled between his teeth. "If I could stuff you in my backpack, you could give me the answers on my calc tests." He grinned. "You're faster than my calculator."  
Jonas looked around at them. "You mean you can't do that in your heads?" he said.  
"Huh-uh." Charity slowly shook her head. "Well, I can tell you right now you'll be in honors math. I think you're gonna have to dumb yourself down so you don't freak out your teachers."  
"So not only will you not be learning anything new in math class," Barbara said, laughing, "you'll have to suppress what you do know. Don't you love our educational system?"  
  
The bus pulled up in front of the middle school and deposited its charges on the sidewalk. Jonas stood and looked up at the school, his fellow students milling past him. Charity paused by his side. "Ready?"  
He smiled at her. "Ready."  
He had been registered at the school, had memorized his schedule and map of the building and had learned the basics of the cafeteria and bell systems. He had chosen new clothes—with them, he felt he had finally moved into his bedroom, with some belongings there. He had even memorized the fabricated past his new family had given him. Now, the real test was coming.  
Jonas had never realized that people could be so loud! His fellow students talked, shouted to one another, laughed loudly. And the way they talked! Jonas had had some imprecise language from the Watsons, but the middle-schoolers completely surpassed them in that department. They used many words that Jonas didn't know, and some of them sounded terribly impolite.  
"Chair! How was your weekend?" someone asked from nearby.  
"Interesting," Charity said with a little laugh. "Hey Katie, this is Jonas Miller, my cousin. He and his brother are living with us now."  
"Hey," Katie said casually.  
"Pleased to meet you," Jonas said shaking her hand.  
"Wow," Katie said, "where are you from?"  
"Borneo," Charity said shortly. "Come on, Jonas, your homeroom's down here."  
"Why did you say I was from Borneo?" Jonas asked as soon as they were out of earshot. "I don't know anything about Borneo!"  
"Neither does she," Charity said, waving at some friends. "Besides, she knows I was only kidding."  
"She was surprised when I shook her hand. Isn't that alright?"  
"Yeah, it was fine. Very polite."  
"Then why did she think it was strange?"  
"Because most teenagers don't shake hands when they meet other teenagers. But hey, you're a missionary's kid, right? You were raised to be polite and your parents probably insisted on precise English. It's fine."  
Jonas found all of his classes alright. Two of the them were with Charity. One of these was math. The teacher was going over the Pythagorean theorem. Jonas recognized the formula, though he had never heard it called by that name. Once the teacher had explained it, she put a problem on the board. "Who'd like to answer this?" It was a right triangle, with two sides of three and six units each. It asked for the hypotenuse.  
Jonas put his hand up. Around him, he could hear people shuffling papers and getting out their calculators.  
"Yes, Jonas?" the teacher said, as if expecting a question.  
"C equals the square root of forty-five, or three square roots of five," Jonas said clearly.  
Silence fell on the room. A couple of people whistled through their teeth.  
"Good job!" Mrs. Holtry said, sounding thrilled.  
Too late, Jonas remembered he wasn't supposed to let people know what he could do. He could hear the class whispering around him, and he bent his head over his binder, his face burning. He was almost scared to look at Charity, see her mouth 'I told you so!' But he did glance back at her. It looked like she was silently laughing. She grinned at him and winked. Jonas felt a smile spread over his face. Charity held up her calculator and tapped it. Jonas nodded, and turned back to his work. Charity shook her head, still laughing. 


	7. Rosemary

Jonas stepped out of the lunch line holding his tray and scanned the cafeteria.  
"Jonas! Over here!" Charity waved to him.  
Jonas smiled and headed for the table. Charity introduced him to her friends. Katie was there, as well as two girls named Jackie and Megan, and there were three boys—Josh, Kris and Sean. When Jonas sat down, the table was full.  
"Did you hear Christy's going out with Jason Kendig?"  
Going out? Jonas thought. What does that mean?  
"Ohmigod, they're so wrong for each other," Megan added.  
"I know," Jackie said, rolling her eyes. "Totally."  
Jonas had no idea what they were talking about. He suddenly felt very alone. He stared down sightlessly at his plate. He had once told Lily, "I feel sorry for anyone who's someplace where they feel slow and stupid." He shook his head. Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help anything, he told himself.  
"So Jonas, where you from?" Kris asked.  
"Borneo," Katie answered and they al laughed, Jonas included.  
"Where is Borneo, anyway?" Charity said.  
"Asia," Jonas and Sean answered at the same time. They both laughed.  
Well, maybe not so slow and stupid after all, Jonas thought with a grin, digging into his macaroni.  
  
"I just realized something," Jonas said. He and Charity were sitting at the kitchen table eating a snack.  
"Whuff?" Charity said, her mouth full of peanut butter.  
"I never found out your middle name," he said teasingly.  
"Oh." She swallowed. "Do you really want to know?"  
"Yes."  
"Rosemary."  
Jonas dropped his PBJ. "Pardon?"  
"Rosemary," Charity repeated, seemingly oblivious of his reaction. "It's an herb. The name is kind of a joke. Mom's a bit of an English nerd."  
Jonas managed to find his voice. "What's the joke?"  
"Well, Charity means 'love'. There's a famous quote from the play 'Hamlet' that goes, 'There's Rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.' So Mom was kind of making a play on words."  
"Rosemary's for remembrance?"  
"Yeah. Different herbs and flowers used to be symbols for thing. Hey, are you okay? Got some peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth or something?"  
"I'm fine." His head was spinning. "I think I'm going to go do my homework." He left his plate on the table and almost fled the room. Charity stared after him and shrugged.  
  
Jonas discovered that he enjoyed his new school. It was a little slow for him, particularly in math, but h loved his art and music classes, and now that he had friends to 'hang out with', as he was soon calling it, even the boring classes were bearable. Rather than bothering him, as he thought it would, the relative disorder of the classrooms amused him. He found it funny how free the students felt to disrupt the class. But he never joined in. His teachers had mixed feelings about him. He had great grades and always answered correctly when they called on him; he paid attention and was always very polite and respectful. He even sat up straight and used proper English most of the time. But he occasionally displayed a strange naivete about the world, which he seemed at pains to conceal, and he hardly ever raised his hand, especially in math class.  
His new circle of friends treated his lack of practical knowledge as a joke, and Jonas quickly went along with this, assuming an exaggeratedly stupid face and tone of voice when he asked questions, like, 'What's a cell phone?' or 'Who's Mickey Mouse?' It worked; they would laugh, but they would answer in simple terms, all part of the joke. They never knew they were actually teaching him thing she didn't already know. Friday night, Jonas went to sleep with a smile on his face.  
  
Fiona sat on the bench by the empty playground, kicking at the tanbark. She heard a noise behind her, and turned her head. Asher walked glumly up and sat down beside her.  
"How could he?" Asher said dully. "He knew what would happen if he left, the agony it would put everyone through. And he did it anyway." Fiona said nothing. "Aren't you angry? Don't you wonder how he could have subjected us to this?"  
"No," Fiona said quietly, "I wonder how he could have borne the burden of all these memories with only the Giver to share them. And I wonder if our receiving the memories means he's Elsewhere, or he died."  
There was a sudden change in the atmosphere. Even Jonas, standing behind them, could feel it.  
"Here it comes," Asher said, and no sooner had he spoken than the memory hit, and Jonas saw it with them, and saw them, too. He saw them smile as the sled ran down the hills, saw their expressions turn to apprehension and then fear as the sled skittered sideways, heard them scream with him as they experienced the broken leg and the loneliness of pain. And screaming, he woke.  
Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Jonas, wake up!" a female voice said.  
"Fiona?" Jonas gasped.  
There was movement, and Charity flicked on the lamp next to the bed. Jonas blinked in the sudden light. "Charity," he said, waking up more fully.  
"Yes, Charity," she said. "Who's Fiona?"  
Jonas rubbed at his eyes. "One of my friends from the community. Very gentle, brilliant red hair—not that anybody there was able to appreciate it." He laughed hoarsely.  
"so that's why you asked about the name Fiona," Charity said, the light dawning. "Who's Asher?"  
"He was my best friend."  
There was a pause. "And who was Rosemary?" Jonas caught his breath. "I know you were shocked by my middle name the other day. You can't hide your emotions that well, you know."  
"She was the Giver's daughter. She was the reason we knew that memories would rebound on the Community. he was chosen as Receiver ten years ago, and after five months, she committed suicide. It was forbidden that anyone should ever use the name again."  
"'Rosemary for remembrance'," Charity said. "And Zachary, too."  
Jonas blinked sleepily. "I'm fine now. I think I'll go back to sleep."  
"Alright." Charity flicked off the lamp again. "Sweet dreams." 


	8. June

Life was good for Jonas. The Watsons came to love him and Gabriel like part of their family. Of course, that wasn't hard, with Gabriel so cute and Jonas so eager to love and be loved. Affection between him and his peers grew slowly, but strong. He inspired a deep loyalty in his friends. His fresh perspective on life kept those close to him looking around them with more appreciation for the things they usually took for granted.  
His birthday that spring dawned bright and warm, and as it was a Saturday, the Watsons held a party for him. Jonas' new friends and family ate hot dogs and hamburgers outdoors on a picnic table. Jonas knew about birthday celebrations from the memories, but he was surprised nonetheless.  
Most of the time, Jonas felt closer tot he people of his new life than he had ever felt with anyone from the old. They were tied together by emotion and love. But there were still times when he felt as isolated and alone as he had during his training to be the Receiver. At those times, he would pick up Gabriel and hug him tightly and remember that he wasn't alone. Though energetic, Gabriel would never struggle to be let down when Jonas did this, but clung to him, as if he knew what Jonas felt. And perhaps he did; it wasn't as if they had never communicated mind-to-mind before!  
In June, Jonas experienced something else he'd never thought of—the end of the school year. School was year-round in the Communities, and Jonas had trouble imagining a vacation for the children that extended over a whole three-month period. During the last week of school the rules were relaxed, classes were ended. It was almost freedom incarnate. The first day of summer vacation, Jon, Charity and their friends went on a hike at a nearby park. The trail led to large rocks, which the kids clambered over like lizards. At the top, they could see a waterfall that gushed down over ledges to end in a wild spray below. The sun shone through the water, and a rainbow gleamed out.  
"Whoa," Katie breathed. Everyone nodded.  
"What does it make you think of?" Jackie asked Charity.  
"Hope," Charity said. "After the long hard climb, there's always hope and happiness."  
Jonas looked at her face. Her green eyes were brighter than the June foliage around her, and there was a look of such joy on her face that Jonas was surprised she wasn't singer. He felt something rise up in him, like a great rushing wind, louder than the noise of the waterfall, and far more forceful. And without being told what it was, he knew, as if it were a memory. He knew that Charity was well named 'love', because he loved her. And she turned and looked at him, and she smiled more brilliantly than the waterfall. And he knew that she loved him, too. 


	9. Valedictorian

"Have you practiced your speech?" Charity asked Jonas as they walked in the front door.  
"Not much," Jonas admitted. "Do you want to hear it?"  
"Sure." Charity dropped her backpack on the floor and flopped down on the couch. "Your wish is my command, oh great Valedictorian!"  
"Shut up," Jonas said, grinning. Charity laughed.  
"I'm glad Matt's driving down to spend the weekend," she said after him as he climbed the stairs to retrieve his speech.  
"Me too," Jonas said. "He's been so busy, we haven't seen him since Christmas!"  
"I can't quiet believe we're already graduating," Charity said as he came back downstairs. "After this summer, we'll be going off to different schools, and we won't see each other for months."  
"We can do it," Jonas said bracingly. "Besides, some time apart is probably a good thing. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'."  
There was a pause. "Speaking of which," Charity said, clearing her throat, "I know you had another nightmare last night."  
"I'm sorry I woke you up."  
"It's not that," Charity said quickly. "It's just—you've been having these nightmares about the Community for what, five years now? I'm no psychologist, but there's something you've got to come to terms with."  
Jonas said down on the other end of the couch. "I know. It's that—I don't know what happened in the Community. I saved Gabriel, but I'll never know if I saved the rest of them. I dream that they've got back to the way they were before, I dream that they couldn't handle it and they live in misery... but Mostly, I dream that they hate me for what I've done, and they come and take Gabriel away." He didn't mention how they made him stand by and watch as they set the Watson's hose on fire, killing his entire family, including Charity herself. He shuddered. "I don't really want to talk about it."  
"Okay." Charity nodded. "Let' hear this speech."  
Gabriel walked in five seconds after Jonas had finished, while Charity was shouting, "Bravo! Braaavooo!" and Jonas was making sweeping bows to every corner of the invisible crowd. "What are you clapping about?" he asked.  
"Jonas finished his speech," Charity said.  
"Ooh! I wanna hear it!"  
Jonas laughed. "I'm not doing it all over again. You'll hear it on Friday."  
"'Kay," Gabriel gave him a hug. "Can I have my snack now?"  
"Yeah. Come on, Kiddo." Charity held out her hand to him and led him into the kitchen. "How was your day?"  
Jonas followed them into the kitchen. He and Charity listened to Gabriel tell about coloring pictures in school and playing games at recess. Here was the center of his world.  
  
"We've sketched out our futures on the canvas of our lives," Jonas said, gazing out over the faces of his classmates. "Let us fill it in with a vibrant rainbow of experience."  
The applause was thunderous. Someone back in the audience blew a short blast on an airhorn—Jonas realized it was Matt. He smiled, watched Charity turn and laugh at her older brother. Gabe, beside Matt on the bleacher, was holding his ears and grinning.  
  
The graduation party lasted until after midnight. After they'd said goodbye to their friends, Jonas drove them home.  
"That was great," he said with a sigh.  
"Yeah."  
"What's the matter?" Jonas asked Charity, glancing at her in the dark.  
"My head's spinning," she answered weakly.  
Jonas pulled over and looked at her with concern. "Do you feel sick?"  
"No, just kind of woozy."  
"You need to go see a doctor, Chair. That's the fourth time in the past week!"  
"I'm sure it's nothing, Charity answered, sounding stronger. She sat up. "There, it's gone." Jonas raised an eyebrow. "Really!"  
Jonas pulled back onto the road. "I know I said I wouldn't tell your parents, but if you don't go to a doctor, I will."  
"Oh, alright," Charity sighed. "I'll go to the walk-in tomorrow."  
"Good." 


	10. Voice of Eve

Charity kept her word. She told her mother the next afternoon that she was going to hang out with Katie, and went to the doctor instead.

Jonas was reading in the living room when she walked in the door.

"Did you have fun?" Barbara asked.

"Oh, yeah," Charity said blithely, and went up to her room. A minute later, Jonas followed her and leaned on her door. She was cheerfully tidying up her room.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What did the doctor say?" Jonas asked quietly.

"He took some blood and said he needed to run some tests. He didn't seem very concerned." She shrugged.

"Neither do you."

"Jonas, I told you before, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

But Jonas thought Charity sounded a little _too_ careless. He felt sure she wasn't being honest.

"How are you gonna keep this from everybody when the doctor calls?"

"I told them to call my cell phone. They said they'd get back to me in a week."

* * *

Charity and Jonas decided to take Gabriel on a picnic the next day. Basket in hand, Jonas climbed the hill, following his little brother.

"No, this way, Gabe," Charity called, gesturing in a direction he hadn't been in before. "I found a great place for a picnic!"

She had indeed. There was a little hollow with steep hills on three sides and the woods on the fourth, with a little stream running through the bottom. The sky was impossibly blue that day, and turning in a 360-degree circle, one saw no signs of houses or neighbors, just endless sky and green fields that reached into the heavens. The birds sang from the woods.

"Whew," Jonas said when he reached bottom of the hill, lugging the basket. "There at last!"

"Thank you for carrying the basket. I know it's a little hot out," Charity said, unfolding the picnic blanket.

"You can say that again," Jonas said feelingly. "But the walk was worth it." He looked around. "Too bad there isn't any shade to sit under."

"Oh, the sun isn't _that_ warm," Charity said absently, handing Gabriel the plates. "What did Mom pack for us?"

The three of them did full justice to Barbara's excellent cooking. After they were done eating, Gabe asked if he could go explore.

"Alright, but don't go too far," Jonas warned. "I want to be able to find you when it's time to go back."

Gabriel agreed and ran excitedly off into the woods, his curling golden hair glinting in the sun. Jonas helped Charity pack the empty plates back into the basket, then lay down on the grass with a happy sigh and folded his hands behind his head. Charity sprawled out on her stomach next to him. She sighed contentedly.

"What are you thinking about, Zach?" she asked, using her pet name for him. "Looks like something profound."

"Actually I was thinking that cloud up there looks like a bunny," Jonas said lazily.

Charity chuckled. "So much for profound." She put her head down on her arms and closed her eyes. They lay in lazy silence for a few minutes.

"It _is _a little hot out here in the sun, isn't it?" Charity said, putt her hand over her eyes.

"Do you want to go over into the woods where there's shade?" Jonas asked.

"And get attacked by hordes of ferocious ticks? No thanks."

"As you wish, Milady," Jonas grinned.

"Alright, Minion," Charity said in her most imperious voice. "Read us some poetry."

"Yes, Master." Jonas sat up and did his best impression of a hunchback as he limped over to the picnic basket. "Igor will go fetch brain..."

He brought back the slim volume of Frost's poetry they had found on a shelf in the basement a few days before. "Which one do you want to hear?"

"Oh, I don't know, pick one," Charity said, sitting up.

Jonas randomly flipped the book open and saw, "Never Again Would Birds' Songs Be the Same". He began to read:

"He would declare and could himself believe

That the birds there in the garden round

From having heard the daylong voice of Eve

Had added to their own an oversound,

The tone of meaning but without the words.

Admittedly an eloquence so soft

Could only have an influence on birds

When call or laughter carried it aloft.

Be that as it may be, she was in their song.

Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed

Had now persisted in the woods so long

That probably it never would be lost.

Never again would birds' song be the same.

And to do that to birds was why she came."

He paused at the end of it, and could hear the birds singing around them. "Do you like that one?" He glanced up at her. "Charity?"

She was leaning over, in obvious discomfort, with both her hands over her face. "I don't feel so good," she said weakly.

Jonas jumped to his feet and grabbed an extra napkin from the basket. "Go get under the shade," he said, and Charity didn't argue. He knelt to wet the napkin in the stream as Charity stood shakily and started making her way toward the trees. Jonas stood and started after her, just in time to watch her crumple silently to the ground.

Jonas wasn't one for shouting. "Oh my God," he muttered, and ran over to her, his heart pounding. He scooped her up and carried her inexpertly into the cool shade. Laying her down on one of the few patches of grass not covered in poison ivy, he put the cool, wet napkin on her forehead and tried to remember what they'd learned in first aid at school. Unconsciousness was a life-threatening condition; one was to check, call care. Charity was obviously still breathing, albeit a little shallowly, and her skin had taken on an alarming pallor. Call—they didn't have Charity's cell phone with them to call 911. He could call for Gabe and send him to get help—but he didn't want to alarm the five-year-old. There was nothing for it; he would have to leave her and run for help himself.

Luckly, as he was trying to remember how to place a victim in the recovery position, Charity came to. Her eyes flew open very wide, which added to the fearful look already established by her greenish complexion. "Oh. Where am I?"

"You passed out and I carried you into the shade," Jonas said. "Rest a minute. I'll call Gabe; we're getting you back into the AC."

As it turned out, there was no need to call for Gabriel. At that moment, he poked his angelic face in between some branches and peered down at them. "I thought you guys weren't comin' in the woods," he said. "What's wrong with Charity?"

"She just got a bit overheated," Jonas said, loath to lie to his little brother. "We're going to go home. Could you pack up the basket?"

"'Kay!" Always helpful, Gabriel cheerfully faced out into the meadow.

"Glad to see _he's_ in high spirits," Charity said wryly with her eyes shut.

Jonas gave a half-smile, glad she was feel well enough to joke around. "Do you think you can walk?"

"If you'll help me," Charity said, taking his hand as he helped her to her feet.

He put his arm around her waist to support her. "Tell me if you feel faint again."

Charity's parents weren't home when they got back to the house, so Jonas helped Charity over to lay down on the couch. "Why don't you go play in the yard, Gabe?" he suggested.

"Okay," Gabe agreed, then threw his arms around Charity's neck and gave her a sticky kiss on the cheek. "Hope you feel better, Chare-Chare."

Charity gave him a quick, tight hug and kissed him back. "Thanks, Buddy." She listened for the sound of the door closing behind him. "Jonas, you're not going to tell Mom and Dad about this, are you?"

Jonas sat down in an armchair and stared glumly at the floor. "I don't know, Chare. Don't you think we should?"

"No!" she said, a little too forcefully. He glanced up at her, and she softened her tone. "Nah, I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, I already went to the doctor. If his tests turn up something really innocuous, I don't want to have scared them for no reason." Jonas was still looking at her, not convinced. "Please, Jonas," she said quietly. "Not yet."

Jonas couldn't deny her what she asked when she looked at him like that. Besides, maybe she was right, maybe it was nothing. Jonas pushed the nagging little voice of caution out of his mind. "Alright," he said finally. "But no more picnics in the sun till we hear from the doctor. No driving, no locking yourself in any rooms, and keep your cell phone, or preferably, you cell phone _and_ another adult, with you at all times. I don't want anything to happen to you if this occurs again. Agreed?"

"Yessir!" Charity said saluting, then caught the serious look in his eye. "I promise," she said solemnly.

* * *

Thursday afternoon was blisteringly hot, and Charity and Jonas went out for Italian ice. While they were in the shade eating their gelatis, Charity's cell phone rang. She handed Jonas her cup and dug it out of her purse.

"Hello? Yes. Fine. Um, noo..." She looked at Jonas with a what-is-this-person-talking-about? look on her face as she took back her gelati. Another pause. "Okay..." She walked over to the picnic table and sat down. "Yes." She listened intently for a moment, and then went very still. She seemed unable to speak. "Yes, I'm still here," she finally said. She seemed to only have half her mind on the rest of the conversation. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Yes. Alright. Bye." She hit the end button.

Jonas sat beside her, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Was that the doctor's office?"

"Yes." Charity stared unseeing at her gelati. "They got the results back."

"And?"

"I have something called Vanhelden's Disease," Charity said in a rush. "It's terminal, and there's no cure."

The sun beat down warmer than ever, but Jonas suddenly felt ice-cold. "Oh my God," he whispered. This death that was coming—he couldn't understand it. The grief hadn't touched him yet, but he knew it would.

"I'm sorry, Jonas," Charity said, breaking into his thoughts. "I've known something was wrong for a long time, but I didn't want to believe it."

"No apologies," Jonas said, taking her hand. _There isn't time_. That did it. Charity sobbed, and Jonas tossed their cups onto the table and put his arms around her.


	11. A Memory

They didn't go home until after everyone had gone to bed. "We'll tell them in the morning," Jonas said, and Charity nodded wearily.

Jonas dreamed about the Community that night, but it wasn't a nightmare; it was a memory.

"We have a unique learning opportunity today, class," the Instructor of Nines said, as a doctor-in-training wheeled a medical cart into the classroom. "Pierre, come up here, please." Pierre walked up to the front of the room. "Pierre has a rare condition that causes fatigue and discomfort," the instructor said. "Today we will learn how injections work by watching a doctor administer the cure for this ailment. Our doctors work tirelessly to improve our lives by researching medicines that will eradicate potentially harmful diseases."

Pierre rolled up the sleeve of his tunic. The doctor swabbed a patch on his arm with a cotton ball, then administered the painless injection. Pierre rolled back down his sleeve and walked back to his seat, grinning with pride that he had been used as a learning experience.

"Injections are administered directly into the bloodstream," the instructor continued.

_That's it_, Jonas thought, and awoke.

He spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and thinking.

000

Charity looked very grave at breakfast the next morning. During a lull in the conversation, she cleared her throat, starting to speak. Jonas handed her the orange juice carton. She stared at him.

"Isn't that what you were going to ask for?" Jonas asked, pointed at her empty glass, and putting emphasis on his words.

"Uh, yeah," Charity said, playing along.

Barbara laughed. "You must be psychic, Jonas!"

Charity shot him a pointed look under her brows. He shook his head very slightly. The rest of the family didn't notice.

000

Jonas went onto the back patio after breakfast, and Charity followed. "What is it?" she asked him, sitting down at the picnic table.

"I remembered something last night," Jonas said. "A boy in my age group back in the Community—Pierre—he had an illness that caused fatigue and discomfort. I remembered that his symptoms were feelings of light-headedness. It could be the same disease you have, or at least something similar."

"So?" Charity said.

"Chare, they cured him with a painless injection."

Charity stared at him. Jonas stood and began to pace. "I thought that the lack of disease in the Community was due to enhanced genetics, but I remember a blind woman in the House of the Old—if disease were eradicated, that wouldn't happen. They have cures in the Community. There are plenty of diseases they could eliminate—"

"Are you getting at what I think you're getting at?"

"I have to take you to the Community find out if they have a cure."

"Yes, you _were_ getting at that," Charity said. "Are you _nuts_?!"

"Shh!"

She lowered her voice. "Jonas, they might _kill_ you," she said incredulously. "If the Giver didn't succeed, that's enemy territory... You'd be going to your death!"

"And if I don't, _you're_ going to _yours_." He glared at her. She dropped her eyes.

"I can't ask you to do this for me—"

"You're not." He knelt in front of her and took her hands. "I'm asking you. Charity, I couldn't live with myself if you... died and I knew that I hadn't done everything I could for you. That my fear could have meant the difference between your life and death. Even if they don't have a cure, at least we'll know. It's the not-knowing that would drive me mad."

"I think it already is," Charity said quietly. Jonas stared up at her, confused. "Your nightmares, Jonas." He looked away. "I know you dream about the Community," she went on doggedly. "I hear you cry out in the middle of the night, and it tears my heart out. I've heard you call to your family, to your friends, plead for their forgiveness." Jonas covered his face with one hand and turned away. Charity kept a tight hold on the other hand. "Do you think this will heal your heart as well as my body?"

Jonas nodded. Charity didn't speak for a long moment.

"Alright," she finally said, weakly. "How do we keep this from Mom and Dad?"

000

They decided to tell Barbara and Scott that they were going to spend a week with their friends at Jackie's family's cabin in the mountains. That way, they would have enough time to get the injection and return.

"That's if everything goes well," Charity said. "What if it doesn't and we don't come back?"

"I've got it covered," Jonas said, and Charity didn't ask any more questions.

When Jonas tucked Gabriel in that night, he hugged him a little harder and a little longer than usual.

000

They left early the next morning, before anyone else was up. They took the family's SUV and drove up the long hill behind the house. Looking back, there was the valley spread out below them, Elsewhere, gleaming in the easterly light. Looking forward, there was Jonas' haunting past, the place of his nightmares, but also the place where he first learned to love. Turning their faces westward, they started down the rough dirt road toward the Community. As they descended the hill, they were cut off from the light. Charity shivered. "Something feels different," she said. Jonas only nodded. His mind flashed back to the letter he had left on his bed in case they didn't return—his last message of love, gratitude and an apology for deceiving those he most cared for.

_Even if we die_, he thought, _at least Gabriel is safe_. Then he put Elsewhere from his mind.

TBC

* * *

AN: There's more coming! I swear! I needed to figure out how far Jonas was from the Community, and I wanted to do that before I posted any more. Just hang on! 


	12. Journeying

Jonas and Charity didn't speak for the first few miles. They passed some trees and a few gentle hills; Jonas braked when a raccoon ran across the road.

"I saw one of those when I came through the first time," Jonas said, breaking the silence. "I didn't know what it was."

Charity turned and looked over at him, waiting. He had never before spoken about the hardships he had endured in his journey to their doorstep.

"They sent planes after us the first week. Whenever I could hear one coming, I'd drag the bike and us under cover, and I'd make Gabriel cold by sharing memories with him, so that the heat-seeking devices couldn't see us. Eventually they stopped looking. I've always wondered why. Was it that the damage already done? Or had they stopped seeing it as damage?"

"I hope it was the latter," Charity said.

"So do I," Jonas said quietly.

000

The drive would take them a couple of days. Jonas had traveled quite far to get away from the Community—more than a month, in fact. In his memory the days all blurred together, especially toward the end, when he and Gabe were running out of food. All he could remember now was the hellish ache of hunger in his stomach and the terrible feeling that Gabriel would die and he couldn't save him. And he preferred not to think about that.

They stopped after a few hours to stretch their legs. Just to be on the safe side, Jonas checked their stores. He had brought a decent amount of food and some cans of gas to keep them going. After stretching prodigiously, Charity came around the back of the vehicle and stood beside him.

"What do you think they'll be like?" Charity asked, not looking at him. She stared hard at one of the gas cans.

Jonas didn't have to ask who "they" were. "They may be hostile," he said after a long pause. "It's a definite possibility."

Charity bit her lip. "Do you think they'll…" she couldn't seem to figure out how to say it.

"Execute us?" Jonas said it for her. She looked up at him. "Maybe. We can only pray they won't."

000

They drove all day, stopping only to stretch their legs or refill the gas tank. In the evening, the sun set before them in a flood of crimson. Jonas squinted hard into the light. "We'll have to stop soon and get some rest." There was no answer from beside him. "Charity?"

Charity suddenly slumped forward, held upright by her seatbelt. Jonas swore and braked. He put the car in park.

"Chare?" He tipped her head back. She was unconscious and frightfully pale. Jonas unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned her seat back, then put a pillow under her head and covered her up with one of the blankets from the back. It was all he could do for her.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, she came to. She blinked weakly at him in the crimson light. "What happened?" she asked, her voice rough.

"You passed out," Jonas said, putting his hand over hers. "We're going to stop here for the night." He leaned his own seat back and pulled out another blanket and pillow. "We should be thankful that your symptoms aren't any worse than the occasional fainting spell. Rather mild for a terminal disease, isn't it?" He smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. She picked at her blanket. "Charity?"

"It's not all," she said, clearing her throat. "The doctor said I would probably begin to decline rapidly sometime in the next few days. The fainting spells will be longer and more frequent, I'll be unable to keep food down, and I'm going to get pretty weak." She smiled at him, the smile of a martyr, or an angel. "You're probably going to have to carry me into the Community," she said.

000

Jonas and Charity woke with the sunrise. Jonas sat up and stretched out his sore shoulders.

"Is it morning already?" Charity asked groggily, pulling the blanket closer up around her chin.

"Yeah," Jonas said, climbing out of the car. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"Mm. Not really." Charity closed her eyes again.

"Come on, you should eat something," Jonas cajoled, pulling some food out of the back.

"Oh, alright." Charity capitulated, but Jonas saw that she only nibbled on the Nutri-grain bar he handed her.

They got underway again. They chatted for awhile, and when the conversation petered out into a comfortable silence, Charity reached over and turned on the radio.

All they heard was static. Charity flipped through a few channels: nothing.

"We're out of range of the towers," Jonas said.

Charity turned off the radio. She sat in thought for a second, the reached around her seat and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. She turned it on, then off again. "No service," she said quietly, putting it away. They both suddenly had the feeling that it was them, only the two of them, in the entire world.

Charity leaned over and kissed Jonas on the cheek.

000

After about two hours of driving, Charity put her seat back again.

"Are you alright?" Jonas asked.

"Yes; I'm just tired," Charity said, settling herself with a pillow.

Jonas glanced over at her. Dark circles under her eyes stood out even more starkly against her pale skin.

Charity curled up on the seat and closed her eyes. Jonas watched her for a moment, and a tender smile crept over his face. Very low, he began to sing.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind…"

Charity fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Jonas was beginning to worry. If something happened to cause Charity's health to deteriorate even more rapidly before he reached the Community, there would be nothing he could do for her. He couldn't even call anyone for help on the cell phone. He suddenly realized something he had never thought of before: how very lucky he had been that both he and Gabriel were healthy and were immunized against so many diseases. Had they not been, one or both of them could have easily succumbed to illness on their journey to Elsewhere… And if he had died then, he wouldn't have been able to help Charity now.

Jonas could only raise his eyes to heaven in a silent prayer of thanks for giving him the chance to save the girl now asleep on the seat beside him, the girl who walked around the house barefoot and looked up the meanings of names and made jokes about Borneo.

000

Jonas had a nightmare that night. In his dream, he and Charity were met at the bridge the Community by young men with guns, who ordered them out of the car and took them to see a judge. Jonas gulped and held tight to Charity's hand as they were taken to the courtroom. The room was just as he had remembered—nothing had changed. And then the door behind the bench opened… and his mother stepped out.

"We will now hear the case of 18-19," she said tonelessly, "Jonas."

"Mother." Jonas tried to call out to her, but he couldn't make a sound.

"18-19 is charged with betraying his Community," a young woman said from behind Jonas and Charity. Jonas turned and stared at her as she approached the bench. The woman—girl—looked to be about fifteen, her brown hair cut short in the Community's style. And she looked terribly familiar. "Furthermore, he stole food, a blanket and a bicycle. He even stole away a newchild and took it to Elsewhere. But most heinous of all, this abandonment of his Community, expressly forbidden in all laws to all citizens and particularly to the Receiver of Memory, caused the memories stored up over so many years to be released on this Community." She turned to the crowd seated watching them (had there been a crowd there before?) and declared, "You have all felt the effects of this communal receiving of memory." The crowd murmured in affirmative. She turned to Jonas. "I do not know what it was you hoped to achieve—teach us to love perhaps?—but I am certain it failed. For all we feel now is hatred. Hatred, brother."

Brother. He knew now who she was. Lily. Lily, with stone-hard revenge in her eyes.

Lily turned to the bench. "The Community asks our judge for sentencing. We ask for death."

The crowd began to chant, slowly. "Death. Death. Death." The words grew louder and louder until they were shouting them with all their might—"_DEATH! DEATH! DEATH_!"

They ceased all at once, and Jonas's mother looked down at him. Her eyes were as icy as her daughters. "Death it is, then," she said lowly.

Jonas turned in panic to Charity, but Charity crumbled slowly to sand before his eyes. Two people dragged him over to a chair and strapped him down—the young man's eyes had once laughed as he threw an apple to Jonas, and the young woman's hair was red as fire—or blood. "You won't go to the releasing room, Jonas," Asher said calmly. Fiona added, "All of the Community wants to watch."

Absolutely unable to speak, Jonas looked out over the crowd, and he saw everyone he had ever known there—Pierre and Inger, and the secretary to the Giver, and hundreds more, many of whom he could call by name. Two faces were missing, though: the Giver and his father.

The Giver, he knew, was dead. And he knew where he father was, too, and instant before he saw him. Saw him approaching with the needle in his hand.

Jonas awoke with a strangled cry of anguish. He sat up, panting in terror, his face awash in a cold sweat. But Charity didn't stir. She lay asleep beside him, so deeply exhausted that even Jonas's scream couldn't rouse her. Her skin in the moonlight looked white as paper.

In that moment, Jonas knew it in his heart—knew the thing he had not truly taken in until that instant. Charity was dying. She could not now put her arms around him and soothe him from his night-terrors, and there was no small, warm hand to wrap around his own. And if he couldn't save her now, there never would be again.

* * *

**AN**: Don't think the quality of that one was quite up to par. Sorry about that, guys.

Once again, I am in the realm of dorkdom. I researched this chapter. I needed to know how far Jonas went from the Community to get to Elsewhere, and how long it would take him to drive back. So first, I needed to know how long he traveled.

The book says he left about two weeks before the December ceremony, and presumably he got to Elsewhere on Christmas. Unfortunately, the book never says _when_ in December the ceremony takes place. So I went to the source: I emailed the author.

Lois Lowry has a website—the address is on my bio page. She has her email address at the website, so after reading a couple of things she had already said on the site to see if my answer was there, I emailed her and asked her when the December ceremony was. Here is her very nice and _very_ prompt reply:

"I don't know the answer to your question about how long Jonas was traveling. I wish i had paid more attention that that in the book, perhaps even making it several months, but I think it would have made the last section too long."

So she wanted the traveling time to be long. If we put the December ceremony on the first of December, that would mean that Jonas traveled for 39 days. So now I needed to know how far he could travel in that time. So, on to another page: http:www.bicycletraveller.de/indexe.htm . I emailed the author, and he replied that:

"an untrained person, say doing only the occasional ride, can normally do about 50km without any problems. People riding a bike more regularly will average 80km to 100km. Cyclists doing bigger tours can go 130+km easily - weather and other factors permitting."

I'm no good with metric, so we're gonna put this in English. That's 31 miles, 50 to 62 miles, and 81+ miles. Jonas rode his bike a lot in the community, so we can say he rode about 55 miles a day for the first two weeks (770 miles). Then for two weeks he dropped to 45 miles (630 miles). As he begins to weaken, he drops to 20 miles a day for a week (140 miles) and then finally the last four days he can only do 5 miles a day (20 miles). That's a grand total of 1,560 miles! WOW! Go Jonas! Halfway across the country, that boy rode! I mean, if Charity lived in south-central PA (which is where I'm from), then the Community, due east, is like, north-central CO!

You know the really funny thing about all this? This is not the first time I've done research for a fanfiction. I am a very lazy person. Like, with schoolwork, I won't do any more work than I absolutely have to. But for this fanfic, I also went through and figured out when Jonas and Gabe's birthdays were—his little mind calculation? That took me several minutes and my friend's calculator to do during a boring health class. And I also had to figure out Edwardian servants' wages for my Little Princess fic. Nobody ever tells you that you have to do math and research for fanfictions:)

**Link007**: I agree, it seemed like they crossed dimensions. But if you've read the sequels, it seems that the Community was on the same plane (if you will) with Elsewhere, and it was just that the quality of the world was different somehow. Not exactly sure. But I tried to capture some of that with the feeling they got as they crossed to the other side of the hill.

**CPO3**: You're right, the symptoms _are_ too light. I tried to make them a little worse in this chapter.

**Arachnomadness**: Well, the Giver actually does have two sequels, called "Gathering Blue" and "Messenger", but I really didn't like them. :) And I didn't read them until after I began writing this fic. They're very interesting; I just don't think they're nearly as good as The Giver.

**kairisora16** and **I would login but I don't feel like it right now**: (Nice name, btw :) Unfortunately, if I tried to get it published, I would get my butt sued off. :) Also, I would like everyone to know that not only do I not own the rights to The Giver, I don't own the rights to Nutri-grain bars either!

A huge, gigantic, warm-fuzzy thank you to everyone who reviewed! And also big thanks to **sdonnelly**, whose review which I received tonight made me go, "ohmigosh, I haven't updated since November, and I've already got most of the next chapter written anyway! I better get crackin'!" Even one review can go a long way. grins

Okay, now that the note is longer than the actual chapter, I think I should stop… **Please review!** I will love you all forever! makes the sad puppy-dog face, lower lip trembles


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